


Being There

by tyranusfan



Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: Angst, Family, Gen, Loneliness, Loss of Parent(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:15:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26886487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyranusfan/pseuds/tyranusfan
Summary: Four years after Sharon's death, Rusty Beck works in the L.A. District Attorney's Office. Gus is long gone, Andy has moved out, and Rusty has drifted away from his friends at Major Crimes. Two weeks before Christmas, he feels more alone than ever...until Ricky turns up unexpectedly.
Relationships: Rusty Beck & Sharon Raydor, Rusty Beck/Ricky Raydor
Comments: 22
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

_Los Angeles County District Attorney’s Office_   
_Friday, December 16, 2022_

Rusty Beck didn’t look up from his laptop when he heard the knock on the wall of the cubicle. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, hello to you too, Jump Street.”

He blinked, turning in his chair to find Amy Sykes standing just outside the entrance to his work area. “Amy? Wh-what are you doing here?”

“‘It’s good to see you, Amy. Long time no see.’” She prompted with a bemused look.

Rusty backpedaled. “I’m—no, I’m sorry. I—it’s great to see you. You just caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

“I was bringing some records over to Andrea, and I thought I’d stop in.” Amy’s eyes flicked over the cluttered desk. “You look busy.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m going over depositions in the Stanger case. We go back to court Monday.” Rusty gestured at the mess of papers and folders. “Work, work, work. The life of a first-year ADA, I guess.”

“I figured. You haven’t been by the P.A.B. in months.” 

Rusty thought he heard a tinge of rebuke in her statement, but decided to ignore it. He hadn’t visited the Major Crimes Division since the last time he and Andrea had worked a case there the previous summer. “Yeah, things have been crazy around here. You know how it is with the run up to Christmas. How is everyone?”

If Amy found anything lacking in his explanation, she didn’t indicate it. “Business as usual, more or less. Nolan got a promotion. Tau might be moving to Cyber Crimes.”

“What about you and Cooper? Andrea told me you two might be getting married.”

Sykes grinned, glancing over her shoulder before answering. “Andrea needs to stop gossiping.”

Rusty huffed at that. His boss did love a good interoffice rumor.

“Anyway, I have to get back. You should stop by, sometime Rusty. Everybody misses you.”

Rusty smirked. “Even Buzz?”

“Oh, especially Buzz.” Sykes replied with mock seriousness.

Glancing over his cluttered desk. “I do have some paperwork for Captain Provenza to sign off on, maybe I can—I’ll…try to bring it by on Monday. So long as you guys don’t catch a murder.”

“Well, you know how it is, it wouldn’t be Christmas if we weren’t working overtime.” Sykes rolled her eyes. “I’ll see ya soon.”

Rusty forced a smile. “Bye, Amy.”

It was unusual, secretly rooting for a murder to happen to get him out of visiting Major Crimes…he felt guilty for thinking that.

As he watched Amy leave, his cell phone chimed. Looking at the screen, he saw another text, just like the ones he’d been getting all afternoon. Sighing, he read it, giving a perfunctory shake of his head before dropping it back on the desktop.

As the phone landed, it rang. He was surprised when he saw the name on the screen, and quickly tapped the button to answer it. “Ricky? Hey. What—? Uh, yeah…. Six thirty? That’s…yeah…yeah, sure I’ll meet you at the airport. Okay, I’ll be there. Yeah, see you soon.”

Ending the call, he frowned. His adoptive brother hadn’t planned on coming down from Palo Alto for Christmas until the 23rd. He glanced at the time. It was almost five. _Time to wrap up, anyway_ , he thought. If he left right away, he’d have enough time to go back to the condo and change clothes before he had to be at the airport.

**MC MC MC MC MC**

“This place hasn’t changed a bit.” Ricky Raydor murmured, looking around the condo from his place at the dinner table. “Kinda surprising. I’ve seen the way you keep your desk at work.”

Rusty gave him a sideways glance as he got the plates from the cabinet. “Yeah, well, you know the rules. Keep the mess in your room, where people can’t see it.”

Ricky’s face tightened a bit at the word “rules,” but his tone remained light. “Still, thought you would have redecorated by now.”

“Why?” Rusty asked, frowning. “It’s…tasteful.”

“ _Mom’s_ tastes.”

Rusty stiffened. “I didn’t want to change it.”

“So, I saw you on TV the other day.” His brother said, abruptly changing the subject. “That was fun to watch.”

“I still don’t know why Judge Grove allowed cameras in the courtroom.”

“You crushed Linda Rothman with that cross examination.”

“Nah, her client was an idiot.”

Ricky’s brow furrowed. “Don’t sell yourself short, Rusty. You did really well.”

“Well, it might backfire on me. The D.A. isn’t running for re-election, and Rothman wants his job.” Rusty replied, moving the plates to the table and sitting in the chair across. “Dinner’s ready”

“Think she’ll get it?” Ricky picked up his fork and took a bite.

“The way my life works, I think it’s inevitable.” Rusty said, shaking his head. 

“Maybe she’ll like having an ADA that’s so good at outmaneuvering his opponents.”

“Or maybe she holds grudges and I’ll end up working traffic cases for the rest of my life.”

“Hmm. You might be right.” Ricky replied grimly between bites.

“Gee, thanks for the reassurance.” Rusty groaned.

“This is really good,” Ricky said, toasting with his beer bottle. “My compliments to the chef.”

“Thanks,” Rusty said. “Mom…always liked it.”

He could feel Ricky’s eyes on him, but he didn’t look up from his plate. Actually, he and Sharon had rarely cooked, since her hours were always so crazy. But, on occasion, Rusty had managed to put together decent meals for them.

“Mom loved your cooking.”

“Yeah.”

Rusty’s phone chimed. He glanced at it but hit Ignore.

“Who was that?” Ricky asked. 

“Oh, it’s just someone I know. He’s been texting me all week.”

“Is it something serious?”

“It’s, uh, no. No, it’s this guy named Chad. He’s an officer in S.O.B., used to be part of my protection detail back when Stroh escaped prison.”

Ricky sat up a little straighter. “What’s wrong? I thought that was all over.” 

Rusty saw the look on his brother’s face and rushed to correct himself. “Oh, no, no, it’s nothing like that. I ran into him near the courthouse last Monday, and we talked for a little while, you know, catching up, and we’ve been texting back and forth all week. Well, he’s just been texting me stupid jokes.”

“Oohhh…” Ricky exclaimed, making a face. 

“ _No_ ,” Rusty said sternly. “No. I’m not even going to think about that.”

“Why not? You sound like you’re into him. Is he into you?”

“I don’t even know. He asked me if I wanted to grab lunch with him tomorrow—”

“He what? Back up: how often are you two texting each other?”

Rusty sighed. “Like, five times since my lunch break today.”

Ricky’s eyes narrowed. “Five times _today_. How many times since Monday?”

Rusty took his time chewing before he answered. “I dunno, like twenty times.” 

“Twenty—?”

“Maybe…thirty.”

“Rusty!”

“Look, I’m way too busy with work…and, after everything that happened with Gus last year, I don’t know if I’m even ready for…anything like that.”

“You can’t let Mister Serial Cheater keep you from meeting people,” Ricky griped sourly. “He’s _not_ worth it.” He still refused to refer to Gus by name. Rusty had given Gus another chance after the affair with Aiden, and _two_ more chances after that, and he’d proven himself untrustworthy again and again. After the third time, Ricky had intervened and matters had almost come to blows until Rusty ended the relationship for good. There was arguably more bad blood between Gus and Ricky than there was between Gus and Rusty.

“I know. Believe me. And, Gus isn’t an issue. He moved to San Diego.”

“Good riddance.” Ricky interjected. 

Rusty sighed. “He’s not even on my radar, anymore. I just don’t think that Chad….”

“Have you asked him?”

“What? No!”

“Then how are you supposed to know?”

“I don’t—”

“Is he cute? Do you have a picture?”

Rusty looked at him as though he’d grown a second head. “ _You’re_ asking me if Chad is cute.”

“What?” Ricky shot back, spreading his hands a little too innocently. “Just because I’m straight I can’t have an opinion? I _do_ have eyes after all.” 

“Of course you can have an opinion, but—”

“Then: _is he cute?_ ”

Rusty threw his head back in frustration. “Chad is…look, Ricky—”

“Just go to lunch with him.” Ricky said, cutting off his protest.

Rusty just groaned, dropping his face into his palm. His brother was impossible sometimes.

“You haven’t told me how Thanksgiving with your biological mom went.” Ricky said, suddenly veering into yet another abrupt change of subject. Rusty started to feel as if dinner was really an interrogation. He’d seen enough of them in his years watching the L.A.P.D. operate. He exhaled slowly. _Might as well cover all the bad news at once…._

“Great. It went…great. She’s moving to Oregon next year so my little sister can get into some fancy private school when she starts Kindergarten.”

“Pretty far away.” 

“Yeah, really far away, and…she was so happy about it. She’s got everything all put together and she’s building a nice, happy life for her daughter…and all I could think about was why didn’t she do that for _me_?” Before Ricky could say anything he pushed ahead. “I know what a selfish asshole that makes me sound like, but that’s all I could think about, and it made me so… _angry_. I should be happy for them, but I just…. I came home early. Told her I had a case to work on at the office. I haven’t talked to her since.”

“I can understand that.” Ricky said quietly. “There’s a lot of water under that bridge.”

Rusty shrugged it off and they ate quietly for a few minutes before Ricky spoke again. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around more.”

“What?” Rusty looked up sharply. “No, you—you don’t have to apologize. You’re a successful software designer, Ricky. You’re busy. I get that.”

“Still, I could have made time. Haven’t been here since Easter. That was a long time ago.”

“And you dragged me to Mass,” Rusty teased with what he hoped was a light tone.

“Well, I wasn’t going to go by myself!”

“And we had to sit with _Jack_.”

“I didn’t know he was going to be there. It would have been rude to just walk past him. He’s still my dad.”

“We’re lucky Andy wasn’t with us.”

Ricky chuckled softly, but the mirth didn’t last. “Yeah. Andy. I was surprised when he told me he moved into an apartment.”

Rusty’s heart sank. He’d been hoping they wouldn’t have to talk about that. Sharon had left the condo to Rusty, but Andy was already living there when she passed away. With Andy always working and Rusty in law school, they both basically just used the place as a place to sleep. But, the condo was also a powerful reminder of what they’d lost, and Andy eventually decided that he would move back into a place of his own. “Ricky—”

“You’ll notice I said when _Andy_ told me he had moved out. Not _you_. You didn’t even mention it.”

“I know.” Rusty said guiltily, having trouble meeting his brother’s gaze. “I _know_ , okay? I’m sorry. Andy just couldn’t…the memories of mom here were too much, and he…just couldn’t live here anymore. I mean, I guess I could have made it easier on him, somehow, but—”

Ricky sat his silverware down. “Rusty, do you think I’m mad at _you_ because Andy moved out?” 

“I-I mean—”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“It’s just—”

“I’m _worried_ about you, Rusty.”

“I’m fine—”

“You’re not fine!” Ricky exploded. “You’re a 27-year old bachelor who works eighty hours a week putting criminals behind bars, living in a _monument to mom_! You don’t see any of your friends anymore, you barely talk to me or Emily on the phone. Even Andy can’t get through to you!”

Anger was rushing to the surface so quickly that Rusty’s vision blurred. “Wow! How long have you been holding _that_ in?”

“Rusty—!”

“ _I miss her, Ricky! Okay?_ It’s been almost five years, and I-I can’t go anywhere without seeing her. Not at the courthouse, not where my friends are at-at P.A.B., I can’t come home…I can’t even go to the damned _grocery_ store without—! I-I can’t....”

He wasn’t sure when he started crying, or when Ricky came around the table and pulled him into a hug, but he buried his face in the taller man’s shirt. He still didn’t like crying in front of people, even after all this time. _Old habits_ ….

“How long have you been holding _that_ in?” Ricky asked softly.

Rusty huffed a weak laugh, despite himself. “Shut up.” He pulled away, moving to lean on the bar so he could compose himself. Ricky let him have his space.

“It’s been ten years, did you know that?” Rusty asked quietly, staring over the bar into the empty kitchen. “I limped into that police station looking for my biological mother ten years ago, this past summer.”

Ricky said nothing. Rusty plowed ahead while he still could. “Sharon could have just stuck me in juvie and left me there until the trial. Anybody else would have, but not her. She brought me _here_.” He paused to wipe his eyes. “She gave me a home, sent me to school, let me drive her car. And, I fought her every step of the way. I was such a little brat.”

Ricky moved in beside him at the bar, still saying nothing, simply standing there with their shoulders touching. Rusty couldn’t look at him.

“We made a deal, did she ever tell you that? Right in this spot. I knew that sooner or later I’d have to move on. I’d never lived anywhere more than a few months and I knew this wouldn’t last. She agreed, said that moving on was part of life and someday I would have to go. But, she said no matter where I went, I would never be a stranger to _her_. She would ‘always know me.’ Heh. _I_ was the one who was supposed to move on…she was supposed to still be _here_. But, I’m the one who got left behind.”

“Yeah.” Ricky replied gently. “Things didn’t work out the way any of us….”

Rusty sniffled. “Why are you really here? You weren’t supposed to fly down until next week.”

“I got a call. Andy’s worried about you.”

“Ah,” Rusty nodded. 

“And Emily. And Andrea. And Captain Provenza….”

Rusty huffed. “Geez, what was it? A conference call?”

Ricky shrugged. “More like a call followed by a group text.”

That made Rusty laugh. “Provenza doesn’t know how to work a group text.”

“I think Buzz might have helped him,” Ricky smiled. “Anyway, you were there for me, that first Christmas after she passed. Least I could do was return the favor.”

He finally turned to look Rusty in the eye. “Mom wouldn’t want you to live like this, Rusty, isolating yourself from everyone. She wanted you to move on with your life.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“She’d be pretty mad at you, right now.”

“I know she would.”

Ricky glanced skyward. “I mean, I can feel the _glare_ from here, can’t you?”

“God, I _get it_ , Ricky.” Rusty shot back, but there was no heat behind it. He smiled wanly. “And, yes, I can feel it. I just…don’t know how to move forward. It was easy when I was in law school; I was busy all the time. It’s just…the being busy thing’s not working anymore.”

“Do you still see Doctor Joe?”

“Not anymore.” Rusty replied, staring at his hands. He’d lost a lot in the past few years. “He had some medical problems from when he got shot during that trial. He had to retire last June. He gave me a referral to someone else, but…I didn’t use it.”

“Well, I’m no shrink, but I have an idea. If you want to hear it.”

Rusty shrugged. “Go for it.”

His brother stepped back to the table, picking up Rusty’s phone. Rusty frowned. “What are you—?”

“Responding to Chad,” Ricky explained, typing quickly on the phone.

Rusty pushed away from the bar. “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Hang on!”

“Nope, you had your chance. This is for your own good.”

“Ricky—”

“Done. You’re meeting Chad at that place on the corner that you like so much. The one that serves the dry, tasteless chicken. 12:30 tomorrow.”

Rusty stood there, gaping for a moment, speechless. “What am I—? How am I supposed to go on a… _lunch date_ when you’re here to visit? I can’t just leave you in the apartment, that’s rude.” _That’s a weak excuse_ ….

“You don’t have to worry about me. There’s food in the fridge.”

“What if you need to go somewhere?”

“Uber.”

“But—”

“ _Rusty_. You need to get out of this condo and live your life. And, besides, there’s no point in arguing,” Ricky paused as Rusty’s phone chimed. “Since he just said yes.”

Rusty’s mouth moved for a few seconds, but the words wouldn’t come out. The irritation quickly melted into weariness, however, and he just hung his head. “Okay. Fine. I will go to lunch with Chad and probably be horribly disappointed. Congratulations, Ricky, you have successfully channeled mom. Are you happy?”

His older brother puffed out his chest a little. “I am. I feel I’ve done mom’s work during this holiday season.”

A rueful grin tugged at Rusty’s mouth as he remembered a long past conversation. “Even after all this time, she still gets exactly what she wants.”

Ricky just shrugged. “We should be used to it by now, little brother.”

****

TBC


	2. The Definition of Family

_10 Years Ago_

“Are they going to, like, have a problem with me being here?” Rusty asked as Sharon opened another box of Christmas decorations. 

“Ricky and Emily?” Raydor asked over her shoulder. “No. I already told them about you.”

“What did you tell them?” He asked with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I mean, do—do they know about…?”

“No, no, no,” Sharon replied quickly, giving him a small smile. “I told them you are a material witness in a murder trial and we can’t find your family, so I took you in.”

Rusty’s eyes narrowed: that was the simple version of the story, but he sensed something being left out. “And your kids were okay with that?”

Sharon nodded absently as she unpacked the box. “Yes. Well, Emily was _very_ supportive. Ricky…had some concerns, but I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

_That’s what I’m afraid of._ “Sharon if your son—”

“Sons are always overprotective of their mothers,” Raydor interrupted. “As you well know.”

Rusty shook his head. “Yeah, but—”

“Rusty, it will be fine. Ricky will get here tomorrow afternoon and I am certain that once he meets you, he’ll understand that he’s got nothing to worry about. Now, give me a hand with this, would you?”

Frowning, Rusty moved to help her with the artificial Christmas tree. He didn’t feel good about the situation. If Sharon’s kids didn’t like him and convinced her to— He tamped that thought down. Sharon was always telling him to stay positive. 

All he could do was hope that Sharon was right. 

****

MC MC MC MC MC

Rusty sat at the dining room table, idly doodling in the margins of one of his notebooks. It was just after 6:30, and the glow from the balcony lights was the only illumination in the pre-sunrise gloom. Not enough for him to see by, but he’d jotted down a few thoughts anyway. He didn’t know if he’d be able to _read_ them later, but that didn’t bother him. Writing in his notebooks was more about getting his thoughts _out_ than revisiting them.

Ricky had arrived at the airport just before dinner, and for once Sharon wasn’t tied up with a murder, so she went to pick him up. Rusty had elected to stay behind, deciding that he shouldn’t be present for the reunion. He figured it’d be easier if Sharon’s biological son wasn’t confronted with the new kid in Sharon’s life as soon as he got off a plane.

Ricky Raydor wasn’t what Rusty was expecting. Over a full head taller than him and probably twice his mass, Rusty had trouble not being defensive around the older man. On the street, he would be apprehensive meeting anyone like that. Larger guys could be dangerous, especially if they got the upper hand. But, Rusty forced himself to control that hard-learned instinct. Ricky wasn’t going to attack him; in fact, as far as Rusty could tell, he wanted very little to do with him at all. 

‘Stand-offish’ was an understatement. Ricky had barely spoken to him during dinner, letting Sharon take the lead in conversation. Rusty had caught himself being surreptitiously stared at several times. There’d been a tense moment when Ricky realized that his usual bedroom was now Rusty’s and he’d be sleeping on the couch, but aside from a brief glance at him, Ricky had accepted it with little comment.

“You’re up early for a Saturday.” 

Rusty looked up to find Ricky sitting up, bleary-eyed, looking over the back of said couch at him. He shrugged, keeping his voice low. Sharon was still asleep back in her room. “Oh. I’ve been getting up at six to go to school for so long now that I can’t sleep in anymore.”

That was a half-truth. Sure, he found himself waking up automatically around six, even if his alarm didn’t go off, but he could usually go back to sleep after a few minutes. Today he’d been feeling more anxious than usual and had failed to find his way back into slumber. Rusty was fairly certain the source of that anxiety was staring at him now. 

Ricky, for his part, merely grunted and went about disentangling himself from the covers. 

“Do you want anything?” Rusty asked hesitantly. “I can make breakfast if you want.”

“I think just some coffee,” Ricky murmured, padding quietly toward the kitchen. 

“I can put on a pot—”

“I can get it.” Ricky said curtly, switching on the kitchen light. 

Rusty blinked a few times in the sudden glare, and turned back to his notebook while the coffee started.

“What are you doing?” Ricky asked, peering over the bar.

“Oh, uh, sometimes I write down whatever I’m thinking about….” Rusty replied, hearing how unusual that must have sounded. _A 17-year old sitting in the dark writing down his thoughts…yeah that’s not weird._

Ricky didn’t respond, just turned his attention back to the coffee pot.

“Good morning,” Sharon said, coming around the corner in her bathrobe. Rusty favored her with a small smile, and a great sense of relief. 

“Morning Sharon.”

“Good morning, mom.” Ricky replied, almost at the same time.

“You two are up early,” Sharon observed, glancing between them. “Have you had breakfast?”

“Not yet,” Rusty answered, trying not to sound too eager to move the situation along. 

“You know, Ricky, Rusty makes a delicious omelet.” Sharon said, with a strong hint in her voice.

“Well, I was just going to…” Ricky began, glancing between them until he caught Sharon’s questioning expression. “I think that’d be great!”

Rusty busied himself in the kitchen while Ricky and Sharon sat at the table and caught up on each other’s lives, picking up where they’d left off the night before. Ricky seemed surprised that she had taken over a division that dealt with homicides. Frankly, he didn’t seem all that happy about it. It made sense. Even with Rusty’s limited experience with police, he could easily wrap his head around the fact that Internal Affairs would be much safer than investigating murders. 

Ricky explained how he had a few software projects going, and he and his partners from Stanford hoped to sell a few of them soon. Most of the details went over Rusty’s head—Sharon’s too, it seemed—but he listened carefully anyway. It might be helpful to break the ice with Ricky later. 

He didn’t know why it felt so important to make a good impression on Sharon’s children. It wasn’t something that he could remember ever worrying about before. But, something in the back of his mind was bugging him to make an effort. If for no other reason, to keep from antagonizing Sharon. 

Things thawed a bit when breakfast was served. Ricky took a tentative bite, before digging into it. “This is pretty good. Where did you learn to cook?”

“Uh, I used to cook for my mom, before…” Rusty hesitated, not sure how much he wanted to share with someone he just met and may not even like him. “Well, before.”

“You know, Rusty, Ricky designed a chess app back when he was in college. Whatever happened to that, Ricky?”

Rusty perked up at that. “Really?”

“Ah, I did…but it didn’t sell. It was really just a hobby project anyway.”

“Ricky used to play in the chess club in high school.” Sharon added, smiling. 

“ _Mom_ ,” Ricky admonished. “I wasn’t any good. It was just something to do when it wasn’t football season.” 

“Rusty is a terrific player.” Sharon continued. Rusty stayed silent, keeping his eyes on his food and chewing extra carefully. She was obviously sensing the tension in the room, too. No doubt Sharon was trying to break the ice herself. Her face lit up. “You two should play!”

Rusty and Ricky looked at each other, but before either could respond, Sharon’s phone rang. 

“Good morning, Lieutenant. What are you doing in on a Saturday? Ah. Yes, I see. All right. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She ended the call. “I’m sorry. I have to step out for a while. They found a dead Santa on Venice Beach.”

“You’re…leaving?” Ricky asked. From his expression he was obviously hung up on the ‘dead Santa’ part. Rusty was getting used to such announcements. 

“Yes, I’m so sorry. I’ll call as soon as I can.” Sharon answered, dropping her plate on the kitchen counter. “Ricky, I have an idea. There’s a park right down the street where people go to play chess. Why don’t you and Rusty go? It’ll be fun.”

“Well, are you—? What about—?” 

“I’m sorry,” Sharon said again, as she disappeared down the hall to get dressed. 

“Does that happen a lot?” Ricky asked, looking surprised.

Rusty shrugged. “Yeah. Sharon tells me the police get really busy around Christmastime.”

The expression on Ricky’s face was unreadable.

****

MC MC MC MC MC

The drive to the park was mostly strained silence. Rusty hadn’t felt so uncomfortable since he’d first moved into the condo. “Really, we don’t have to—”

“No.” Ricky replied tersely. “Mom wants us to go play chess, so we’ll go play chess.”

They found an empty table and got set up. There was a cool breeze wafting through the park, but Rusty had grown immune to cold weather living on the street. Ricky looked less comfortable. They were several moves into a game before Ricky broke the silence.

“So, living with someone you don’t know…must be a drag.”

Rusty looked up at him. “Well…not really. Sharon’s a lot nicer than some of the foster parents I was stuck with before. Lot of rules to learn, though.”

“Mom loves her rules,” came the noncommittal reply. “She’s sending you to St. Joseph’s, too. Pretty good deal.”

Rusty detected a note of suspicion in the question. Did Ricky think he was taking advantage of his mother? That was something Rusty worried about every day. He shook his head. “ _Not_ my idea. I didn’t even want to go back to school, but Sharon insisted, and she usually gets her way.”

“Mmm.”

“Wasn’t she like that when you were growing up?”

That made Ricky smile a little. “I’ll give you that one.” He arched an eyebrow. “Then again, that was different, us being _family_ and all.”

For some reason that Rusty couldn’t place, the comment rankled. He didn’t answer, just bit his lip and moved his rook. “Check.”

Ricky countered with his own rook. Rusty moved his bishop. 

“Check.”

Frowning, Ricky moved his king to safety. Rusty moved his knight.

“Check.”

Ricky blocked with one of his remaining pawns. Rusty moved his other bishop, then folded his hands on the table.

“Checkmate.”

“Wait, that’s not—” Ricky glanced across the board, then tilted his head and looked again. “Damn.”

Rusty shrugged. “We can go back to the condo—”

“Uh-uh,” Ricky shot back. “No, reset the board.”

****

MC MC MC MC MC

_Present Day_  
 _Sunday, December 18, 2022_

“You awake over there?”

Rusty blinked, realizing that he was staring out the window. “Hm? Oh. Sorry. Yeah, it’s my turn, right?”

“Mm-hmm,” Rusty didn’t have to look up to know that Ricky was staring at him in concern. “For about five minutes, now.”

Forcing a smile, Rusty shrugged. “Just taking my time before I move in for the kill.”

Ricky glanced at the board, then shook his head. “Not today.”

“What?”

“I’ll have you checkmated in three moves.”

Rusty looked up at him in shock, then back at the board. “No you—wait….”

“Yeah.”

“How…but….”

Ricky looked chagrined. “Rusty, I’m—”

Irritation flared. Rusty held up a silencing finger. “ _Don’t. Do not_ apologize for winning.”

Ricky flashed a smug smirk. “Oh, I wasn’t going to. I was going to say I’m getting hungry. You want anything?”

“Huh?” Rusty asked, still examining the chess board in disbelief. He could count on one hand how many times Ricky had beaten him. _How did_ ….

“You left your rook open,” Ricky explained, rising to walk toward the kitchen. “I thought you were laying a trap for me.”

When Rusty didn’t answer, Ricky looked around the refrigerator door. “Or maybe you _were_ laying a trap and just got distracted? You sure you’re not hungry?”

Annoyance quickly replaced the surprise. “You eat like you’re starving.”

“I am starving. That’s why I’m eating.” Ricky shot back. He poked Rusty in the shoulder as he moved back into the living room. “So what’s got you so distracted?”

Rusty scowled as Ricky sat down, balancing a plateful of food on his leg. “No food on the furniture.”

“Don’t quote mom at me.”

A few days earlier, the comment would have saddened him, but instead, Rusty found himself smiling at the fond memory. “I, uh, was thinking about that first time we met.”

“Ah.”

“You _hated_ me.”

“I didn’t ‘hate’ you!” Ricky protested.

“You were _not_ happy about me living here.”

“That’s different,” Ricky said around a mouthful of sandwich. “I was protecting my mother. But, hey, that was before I got to know you.”

“I was also thinking of that first time we played chess. In the park.”

Ricky smiled. “You beat me pretty bad.”

“Three times.”

“Don’t brag.”

Rusty shook his head and started resetting the board. He glanced over at the pile of bags and suitcases stacked at the end of the sofa. “That’s a lot of luggage for two weeks.”

Ricky kept his eyes on the board. “I thought I’d stay for a while. If that’s okay with you.”

“Don’t you have to get back to work?” Rusty asked, frowning.

“No rush,” Ricky waved his hand absently. “We’re negotiating to sell the new app. It’ll be a few months before anything goes through. I can use the webcam if they need me.” He glanced up briefly at the younger man. “Besides, I think you’ve been alone long enough.”

Rusty stilled, unable to meet his brother’s gaze, his own vision blurring a little. He gestured at the board. “Play again?”

“I’m sitting here, waiting for you to make a move. _Still_.”

Rusty grinned. He reached for a pawn, but hesitated before picking it up. “Thanks man.”

“Don’t mention it, little brother.” 

Ricky opened with a particularly aggressive series of moves. “Hey, you never said how lunch went yesterday.”

Rusty smirked. His scheming adoptive sibling was obviously hoping to distract him again. “Oh, I’m not giving you the satisfaction.”

“So, it _did_ go well!”

“Not telling.” Rusty shook his head obstinately. 

“You want to invite Andy over for dinner tonight?”

Rusty looked up at him thoughtfully. He hadn’t seen Flynn in over a month. “We should.”

“He’s a detective, he’ll be able to figure out how your date went.”

“It wasn’t a date.”

Ricky looked stricken. “I set it up. I’m pretty sure it was a date.”

Rusty laughed, pointing his knight at the older man threateningly. “I’m am _so_ going to kick your ass. Check.”

****

TBC

**  
_Author’s Notes:_  
** Ricky first appeared in the season 3 episode “Sweet Revenge,” when Rusty mentioned that he “hardly knew him.” This doesn’t mean they’ve never met, of course. Just that they didn’t hit it off. It’s unlikely that Ricky didn’t come home every Christmas, and there was at least one Christmas episode in seasons 1 and 2.

It was never explicitly stated that Ricky played football in high school, but Rusty mentioned that Sharon loved the game (to the extent that she almost took a job with the NFL), and given Ricky’s physical build, it seems likely that he was athletic. Put the two together, it seems reasonable that he played football in school.

Regarding Rusty’s age, I’ll share my reasoning: He was 15 when abandoned at the zoo, and spent two years on the streets. He was 17 when found by Major Crimes, and remained 17 until the season 2 finale. (So, presumably, both seasons 1 and 2 took place in the same year.) 

The varying lengths of the seasons make time hard to judge, but he was “almost 21” near the end of season 5. There was a time jump between that and season 6, allowing the Major Crimes offices to be rebuilt following the bombing, and everyone to suffer through the lingering flu outbreak. Rusty left for law school at the end of that season, which should have lasted about four years, and this story is set about one to one and a half years after that, so I settled on his being 27, approximately ten years after season 1.


	3. Major Crimes

_Six Months Ago_  
_Thursday, June 9, 2022_

Rusty still couldn’t believe his eyes. 

Andrea Hobbs had been called over to Major Crimes to deal with a woman who had paid an assassin to poison her husband’s mistress. It seemed a clear-cut case. All they needed to do was get the woman to identify the hired hitman. Hobbs had asked Rusty to second chair, since as a first year ADA he needed the experience. It was an experience he was looking forward to until he was brought up short when he arrived to see the woman being confronted in Captain’s office by Provenza and Lieutenant Tau. 

She was the spitting image of his late mother. Similar in age and height, the same brown, shoulder length hair, even her taste in clothing and eyeglasses was similar. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her as he stumbled to a stop outside the glassed in walls of the office.

“It’s uncanny, isn’t it?” Hobbs muttered, coming up behind Rusty and watching the suspect herself. “She looks so much like Sharon….”

Rusty nodded absently, his mind years away. He’d barely had time to mourn Sharon when she’d died. The crisis with Philip Stroh had come to a head almost as soon as the funeral ended, and he’d spent weeks in crisis mode, then Stroh was dead and Rusty started law school. His entire life had turned upside down in a matter of weeks. He’d buried himself in school work after that, and between his studies and the near constant drama with Gus and his extracurricular impropriety, the next three years had been a blur. He’d never fully processed Sharon’s passing, and here he was, confronted by an apparition.

Hobbs seemed to pick up on Rusty’s distress. “Oh. Rusty are you…? Maybe I should—”

“No.” He said quickly. Too quickly. He’d spent a lot of time and effort trying to prove himself in his new job. Trying to overcome his reputation as a victim and a ward of the justice system—however much of that was in his mind versus what he perceived in others’ eyes—he hadn’t asked for so much as a short break, even on the most difficult cases. He wasn’t going to start now. “No, it’s okay. I’m—it’s okay.”

“Rusty—”

“Where do you need me, Andrea?”

She stared at him for a moment, assessing. “All right. She’s still denying everything even though we’ve got her dead to rights. Follow my lead. Like last month with George Blum.”

Rusty forced himself to look away from the suspect and remember. “Right. Right. Got it. I’m with you.”

They entered the office. Andrea went on the attack immediately, as usual a force to be reckoned with in negotiations like this. Rusty focused on her instead of the woman being grilled. An effort that grew more difficult as the suspect became belligerent in her denials.

She refused to name the assassin she’d hired or even admit any involvement at all, despite a veritable mountain of evidence pointing directly at her. She stood, marching around the desk, screaming at Provenza and Tau and pounding on the faux-wooden surface—until she suddenly stopped. 

The room went silent. Buzz, who was filming the “interview,” broke the silence first. “Captain….”

The suspect collapsed, dropping to the floor, convulsing and foaming at the mouth.

For Rusty, the world went into slow motion. The woman was lying on her back on the floor, in almost the exact spot where his mother had laid, dropped dead from heart failure. At the edge of his consciousness, he heard the shouting, the call for paramedics, he could distinctly hear Provenza, Tau, Hobbs, Amy, but the words all merged together.

 _Call an ambulance!_

_I think she’s been poisoned…_

_Sykesweneedhelpnow!She’snotbreathing!Buzzgethimoutofhere…._

None of it made any sense. All Rusty could do was stare at the dying woman on the ground, and all he could see was his mom dying all over again. One of the worst days of his life playing out like a movie in front of him, swallowed in noise and chaos.

The next thing he knew, he was outside the office. Buzz was talking, but the words were incomprehensible. There was a sharp pain in his hand that drew his attention. He looked down to find himself clutching his satchel with a white-knuckled grip, so hard the metal buckle on the strap was cutting into his palm. It helped him regain some of his senses. 

“I gotta go.”

“Rusty—”

He looked up at Buzz blindly as he staggered away, shaking. “I h-have to go.”

“Rusty wait—”

He glanced back at the older man, registering very little beyond the compulsion to escape. “Tell Andrea I had to—tell Andrea I have to—have to get to the office.”

After that he was moving, fast. He didn’t stop until he reached the elevator. Rusty didn’t realize he was slumped against the wall until the _ding_ , and the doors opened on the ground floor. He forced himself upright, and after taking a moment to get his bearings, headed back across the street.

He didn’t look back. 

****

MC MC MC MC MC

Rusty had been trying to read over the deposition for almost ten minutes, but he couldn’t focus on it. He had to have read the first sentence a dozen times, but all he was aware of was his heart trying to pound its way out of his chest. He saw that woman lying on the floor every time he closed his eyes. Except it wasn’t that woman, it was his mother. It was _Sharon_ lying on that floor every time.

“Rusty? Are you all right?” Brenda Leigh Johnson’s words almost made him jump out of his skin. She smiled at him in bemusement. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

Brenda’s job as chief of the District Attorney's Office's Bureau of Investigation meant that she was always coming and going in the office, and her usual route took her right past Rusty’s cubicle. Since he’d gotten the job, she’d almost always stopped to say hello at least a few times a week. He stammered out a greeting. 

“Hello—I mean, hi, Brenda. I’m—I’m okay, just, there was a suspect over at Major Crimes, and uh, she um…I think she just died. Andrea and I were in with her and she just…. I—I just came back here to work ‘til it’s over.”

“I see,” she replied softly, eyeing him. “Was it someone you knew?”

“What? No. No, I didn’t know her.”

“Well, someone dying right in front of you can be a hard thing to see. Maybe you should go home.”

“No!” Rusty replied, with a little too much desperation in his voice for his own liking. “I’m okay. Andrea might still need me.”

 _Then why are you here while she’s still over there?_ An annoying voice in his head charged.

“I’m sure Andrea would understand,” Brenda said. 

“It’s all right,” Rusty replied, trying to summon some self-control. “I just…I just want to work for a while.”

She seemed concerned, but didn’t press him any further. “Okay.”

He waved awkwardly as she left, forcing an expression onto his face that probably looked nothing like a smile. Rusty just needed to work. If he kept his mind occupied, maybe he could stop seeing his mother lying dead on the floor. 

Rusty just needed to keep working until the image went away. 

****

MC MC MC MC MC

_Present Day_  
 _Monday, December 19, 2022_

Rusty watched Ricky adjust his visitor badge as the elevator climbed to the 9th floor of the P.A.B.

“You could have gone home,” he said. “I know you’ve got to be bored just following me around the courthouse all day.”

“Nah, it’s been fun,” Ricky protested. “Got to see you in court. That was kinda cool.”

“It was just an evidentiary hearing. Besides, Andrea did most of the talking.”

“ _You_ presented the evidence.” Ricky corrected. “And that judge likes you. I could see it on his face.”

Rusty huffed and shook his head. “Judge Grove’s the one that got me started doing this job. If it wasn’t for people like him and Sharon, no one in these buildings would give me the time of day.”

“You are way too hard on yourself, man.” The taller man replied quietly, keeping his eyes on the glowing floor numbers.

The elevator _dinged_ as it arrived, and they exited into the familiar orange and gray hallway outside Major Crimes. Rusty swallowed thickly, slowing a bit as they walked down the hall. He hadn’t been there in almost six months—had actually actively avoided it. He didn’t know how his friends, the people he thought of as his former extended police family, would react to seeing him.

Amy hadn’t seemed angry when she’d stopped by his desk, but—

“You ready?” Ricky asked, elbowing him gently just before reaching the door. From the look on his face, his older brother seemed to have been reading his mind. 

Taking a deep breath and releasing it, Rusty nodded. “I shouldn’t be avoiding my friends. At least, that’s what someone I know has been telling me.” 

“That someone sounds wise.” Ricky observed. 

“Assed. Wise-assed.” Rusty corrected. 

“You’re one to talk.”

Rusty gave him a melodramatic sigh, then swiped his ADA badge and unlocked the door.

The scene they walked into was absolute chaos. There were over a dozen people dressed in a variety of elf and reindeer costumes being corralled by patrol officers, some looking beat up, a few singed, and a few hysterical, all yelling and screaming in a festive holiday indoor riot.

Ricky stopped cold, mouth dropping open. He glanced over at Rusty. “What...the…hell…?”

Rusty looked around for a moment, then shook his head in resignation. “This is…actually not that unusual around here.”

He spotted Mike Tau crossing the line of Christmas villagers toward his desk. They made eye contact and Tau made his way over to where they stood. “Rusty! Haven’t seen you in months, lad.”

Shaking the older man’s hand, Rusty flashed him a half-smile. “Nice to see you, too, Lieutenant Mike. What, uh, what is all this?”

Tau cast a wary eye at the unrest across the room. “Bomb went off at a Christmas village downtown about three hours ago. Looks like it might be an inside job, so we had to bring everyone in for questioning.”

“You have to talk to _all_ these people?” Ricky asked, almost having to yell above the din.

“This is just the first wave.” Tau answered with a frown. “I didn’t know anyone had already called the D.A.’s office….”

Rusty waved his hand. “No, I came by to drop some paperwork off with Captain Provenza.” At the slight narrowing of Tau’s eyes, he quickly added. “And to say hello to everyone. I, um, I haven’t been around much lately.”

Tau gave him a rueful smile. “We’ve all missed you being around here—” There was a loud crash and louder shouting near the suspect line. “If you’ll excuse me!”

“Uh, yeah, okay. Oh, Lieutenant where is Provenza…?”

“Interrogating Santa Claus,” Andy Flynn’s voice came from behind. “So, you can imagine how that’s going.” They turned to see him entering the room behind them. “Hi, boys.”

They greeted him in return. Andy had spent most of the evening with them in the condo after dinner the previous night. He smirked at Rusty while clapping Ricky on the shoulder. “Three social calls in as many days! You do good work, Ricky. That’s more times than I’ve managed to get him out of the condo in three months.” 

Rusty shot him a patient smile. “Ha.Ha.”

“Think you’ll end up dealing with this mess?” Andy asked, motioning toward the crowd.

“No idea,” Rusty shrugged. “Andrea and I are in court all week. Maybe DDA Michaels will catch it.” _Please God…._

Ricky’s cell phone rang, and he looked at the screen. “Oh, this is Emily. I’ll be right back.”

Rusty watched him step out into the hallway, then settled at Andy’s side next to the Murder Board.

“I didn’t get a chance to say anything at dinner last night,” Rusty began quietly. “But, I…appreciate, um….” 

He trailed off, unsure how to put what he wanted to say into words. _Going behind my back and asking my brother to come down?_ That sounded a little backhanded, however true.

Flynn seemed to understand where he was going. “We all need help sometimes, kid.” 

“It’s just…it’s been a bad year. Doctor Joe retiring, and all the fallout with Gus, and my biological mother talking about moving.” _And seeing my mom’s doppelganger back in June_ , he added mentally. He didn’t want to think about that.

“I get it. I’m just sorry I couldn’t help you myself.” Flynn replied.

“You don’t have to apologize, Andy. It’s been hard for both of us.”

Rusty had lost his mom; Andy had lost his new wife. Sharon’s death had left gaping wounds in both their lives that neither had been able to fill, even four years later.

They stood and watched the patrol officers sort out the unruly refugees from Santa’s workshop for a few minutes before Andy leaned over. “You know, maybe you should go talk to Sharon.”

Rusty glanced over at him. He knew Andy meant going to the cemetery. “I—I don’t know. Doing that is—it’s so awkward—I never know what to say, I just end up rambling about my day and it feels like I’m…wasting her time, or something.” _Disrespectful_ was what it was. 

That made Andy chuckle. “Let me tell you something, kid. Sharon never regretted it when you would open up to her. Getting you to talk about how you felt, however much of an uphill battle it was…she considered it the best work she ever did.”

Rusty thought about that for a moment. 

“Trust me, go out and just _talk_. That’s all you gotta do. Wherever she is, you’ll put a smile on her face, for sure.” Andy looked at him. “And it might put one on your face, too.”

****

MC MC MC MC MC

_Friday, December 23, 2022_

“Merry Christmas, Mom.” Rusty paused, glancing down at the flowers in his hand. “I brought your favorites….”

He sighed quietly and looked around the cemetery. He’d never been all that good at this part—the opening up—but it had always been easiest to talk to Sharon when they were alone. She’d always been able to draw out the _real_ Rusty, not the guarded, off-putting front he’d hid behind so often when he was that angry teenager.

“Emily will be here, soon. Ricky’s going to pick her up. We’re all coming out tomorrow, but I…I wanted to come see you by myself first.” Rusty blew out a breath. He really needed to get home. He had a list of things to do for the holiday and was running out of time to do them. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to move. He’d put off coming for four days, and needed to do this.

“Andy is going to have a granddaughter,” he continued. “I think I told you that already, but Nicole’s due date is in a few weeks. We’re all having dinner together Sunday, if Emily and I can get it all cooked in time. We didn’t want to order out this year.

“I, uh, I met someone.” Rusty shook his head. “No, that’s stupid. I already sorta knew him—Chad. You remember Chad, the SWAT officer that you got assigned to me. He’s uh…he’s nice. Totally different from Gus…though I’m really just, _hoping_ that’s true, right now. I’m still getting to know him. Kinda hard to trust someone after…well, you know. We’ve been talking a lot these last two weeks, though. I invited him to Midnight Mass tomorrow. I figure if Ricky and Andy don’t scare him off, maybe that’ll be a good sign.”

He laughed, seeing her face in his mind’s eye as clearly as if she was standing there. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t _test_ people. Hard habit to break, I guess. Besides, if it works out, I’ll never hear the end of it from Ricky, so I need to be sure listening to all that bragging is going to be worth it.”

After a moment, Rusty leaned down and placed the flowers carefully in front of the headstone. “I gotta go. Still have to get the Christmas village set up before Ricky brings Emily back to the condo. They love seeing the place decorated.” 

He paused, rolling over the next words in his mind. _I wish you were here_ was a dumb thing to say. A little too trite and childish. Besides, if wishing worked…. No, as always, Sharon deserved honesty. 

“I miss you, mom.” Rusty grazed the top of the cool stone with his fingers. “Every day. But, um…I’m trying. You were always the one encouraging me to move forward, right? Anyway, I, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow. Promise.”

He turned and headed for the car. Halfway there, his phone chimed.

 **You sure it’s okay if I come tomorrow?**  
**I don’t want LT Flynn to be mad**

Rusty chuckled.

_It’s fine. Just remember to wear a suit_

**Will do**  
**It doesn’t matter that I’m not Catholic?**

He’d once asked Sharon the same thing about his attending St. Joseph’s. He remembered her words to him, too.

_Just walk around with a guilty expression on your face, and you'll fit right in_  
_Trust me_

**lol**  
**K**  
**ttyt**

He pocketed his cell, casting a glance back over his shoulder. Moving forward was hard. Still, in the faint December breeze, he thought he felt a smile. 

****

END


End file.
